Gasoline
by Ausare
Summary: As his job becomes even more difficult, Keitaro turns to a new, superpowerful street drug to forget his problems. But will it cause him to forget his dreams, as well?
1. Hangover

**Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction. **

**I use characters that are licensed by a little man in Japan named Ken Akamatsu.**

**I use lyrics that are licensed by a big man in Germany named Till Lindemann.**

I need time

Don't need heroin

Nor alcohol, nor nicotine

I don't need help

Nor caffeine

But I do need dynamite and turpentine

I need oil for petrol

Explosive like kerosene

With lots of octane and free of lead

A fuel like gasoline!

_Benzin_, by Rammstein. Translated from German by Jeremy Williams.

**Gasoline**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything blurred.

He was going so fast, it made him dizzy.

The lights, the colors, the sounds! So overwhelming! He had never felt so powerful. His whole body was simultaneously hot, cold, vibrating, and still.

He looked forward on his downhill path.

Grinning madly, he sped onward into darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shaft of pure fire blasted into Keitaro's eyes, forcing him awake. He jolted upright, only to disturb his aching head. The sun was rising and birds were chirping, signaling the start of another day on the idyllic Hinata Girl's Dormitory. The resident landlord was in no condition, however, to appreciate the winter morning as he usually did.

"Hey, ASSHOLE!" a voiced screamed from above. What an abso-fucking-lutely terrific way to start what promised to be another shitty day.

He looked up from his futon to see what could have been a beautiful face, if the scowl was removed, in the hole connecting Keitaro's room to that of his love, Narusegawa Naru.

"Where the _hell_ were you? You were supposed to study with us!" she admonished him, referring to herself and Otohime Mutsumi, his fellow Tokyo University aspirants. Keitaro tried to apologize as usual, but a sudden stream of vomit prevented the words from making it out.

"And you're_ hung over? _What is the matter with you? The next entrance exams occur in two weeks! I guess you're not going to bother, huh? You already know you're going to panic on the test like you always do, so you show up here hung over, expecting my pity! Well, FORGET IT!" she screeched, slamming the hatch shut.

"Good goddamned morning. I would try harder, but I'm too busy taking care of you fucking infants. And when did I show up expecting any pity? Or any help? Or any appreciation, for that matter?" He didn't dare voice this to Narusegawa, whom he knew to be too fragile to take such a verbal beating. She cried when he made a simple crack about her glasses, for Christ's sake. As much as Keitaro hated himself for it, part of him secretly enjoyed watching her cry. So why did he still care about her, or anyone?

It was because he was simply a good boy that was finally maturing into a good man. He was empathetic, gentle, and put the needs of others before his own, without considering getting anything in return. He loved everyone, no matter how much they hated him for it. To his sorrow, his infinite patience with the young women he held so dear was waning. It had gotten to the point where he lived for those little moments of joy he could give the girls, because they were the only thing worth living for.

Those little moments were becoming few and far between, though. Shinobu was so in love with him that his mere presence made her nervous and uncomfortable. Su and Sarah had grown tired of him, like a toy. He sometimes missed their kicks to the face that were their twisted sign of affection. Kitsune had dropped his status to plaything, and she had even grown bored of toying with him. Motoko, fighting mounting feelings for him, had earnestly restarted her campaign to drive him out of the house. And Narusegawa just hated him.

Who needed the study session he had planned with her? That _fucking cow _would just attack him again if he so much as dropped his pencil. He would fly out of the room, land on Shinobu, and get pummeled by Motoko as she "accidentally" passed by.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To hell with that. Forget Naru. As for his best friends Haitani and Shirai, however...those boys knew how to have a good time. Haitani had promised something that would help Keitaro kick back. That something was a little syringe filled with green liquid.

"Try this, man. It's so fucking chill."

"What is it?"

"This? He asks what this is! This, _mi amigo_, is your ticket to relaxation. Think hot springs - times a thousand. This, pal, is Gasoline."

"Why would I want to put _gasoline_ in my body?"

"No, no, dumbass, that's just its nickname."

_Try this, man. It's so fucking chill._

Chill was what Keitaro needed. The inn was in a fanancial crisis again because the tenants seemed to keep worming their way out of their bills. He needed money, fast. First, though, he needed some Keitaro-time, and there was no other way to get it. With a certain amount of apprehension, he injected the contents of the needle into his arm and watched his troubles slide away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was last night.

He had no recollection of what happened. His memories went from taking to Haitani in a dark, loud club, to a green needle, to waking up at 4:30 in the morning laying on the kitchen floor back at Hinata Inn. And that was when...

His heart jolted, and he began sweating as he thought back to what happened. And _then_, sitting on the cold kitchen floor, he had reached into his pocket and drawn a large, bloody knife that he had never seen before. He had frantically washed it and snuck to his room, where he hid the knife behind his bookshelf.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He looked at that bookshelf now.

Trembling, he got up and approached it. He prayed to every god he knew of to somehow make last night a void. He wished that it had all just been a bad dream. With a deep breath, he reached behind the bookshelf.

He felt a large knife, still sitting in its hiding place.

"Oh, Christ. Oh, Jesus, please tell me I never left the house, and there isn't a knife back there, and it wasn't covered in..." He withdrew his fingers and looked at them. There was a very small spot of blood, from some part of the knife he had not cleaned.

He gazed at the blood for a long time.

A noise shook him out of his thoughts. "Hurry up, Shinobu says breakfast is ready." Another noise, and Narusegawa's sweet voice was gone.

A strange feeling took hold of him. He reached back, grabbed the knife, and looked it over. He somehow knew how to operate the mechanism, because in a flash, he had closed the switchblade. He stowed the weapon in his pocket - the same one he had first found it in.

Whistling, he went to breakfast.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Okay, guys. I was looking at the translated lyrics to the song above and felt a strong urge to write this. I got hung up by work, however, and someone beat me to posting a story where our favorite _kanrinnin_ gets into drugs. So, this is slightly unoriginal. Sorry. I'm trying to keep it in character for this one: I think I'm doing a pretty good job of depicting how Keitaro-abuse going on too long would affect the Hinata-sou. Of course, this is my own spin on how these characters would behave. Only Kenny A knows for sure. ; )**

**Another thing. I plan to keep this one very short -about five chapters, all around this size. There won't be any OC's or singing characters. And this could go grim or good. I want to do a happy ending, or at least a hopeful one, because I don't want this thing to be a downer. But seeing as drugs are bad, we'll see.**

**The story I'm writing with my friend, Garby, is still underway. It's the total opposite of what you see here: it's really stupid and funny, and OC's abound. It's called Hinata Brigade, and the author I.D. is "Garby." We'd much appreciate it if you'd check that out.**

**Please review. I'd like to know how entertaining this is. I love flames: they tell me that someone read the story.**


	2. Addict

**See previous for disclaimer. I'm not even sure if a disclaimer is necessary...**

I don't need a friend  
Nor cocaine  
I need neither a doctor nor medicine  
I don't need a woman, just Vaseline  
Some nitroglycerine  
I need money for fuel  
Explosive like kerosene  
With lots of octane and free of lead  
A fuel like gasoline!

_Benzin_, second verse, by Rammstein. Translated from German by Jeremy Williams.

**Gasoline**

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What the fuck you lookin' at?"

He grinned insanely. "Time for your haircut." The knife clicked open.

"Oh, Jesus, dude. Please, just chill," ...chill...chill...chill...CHILL!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay?" Kitsune asked.

Keitaro snapped out of his trance and noticed the others were almost done with breakfast. His plate was untouched. "Uh, yeah, everything's chill."

"Well, good. You can be _chill _while you clean the springs." Narusegawa shot. "Good thing it's Saturday. That way I don't have to look after you, being hung over as you are."

This caught Kitsune's attention. "Hung over? So that's where you were - clubbing. You should have brought me. You know how..._affectionate _I get when I down a few." She winked at him and tried to show herself off.

Keitaro's reaction was unprecedented. He simply stared straight forward and held completely still. _"At least teasing me makes her happy," _he thought.

"Keitaro, are you peeking at her?" Naru shot angrily.

_Never fails. _"Nope."

The girls at the table, having been silently watching these goings on, were dumbstruck. The expected breakfast had been as follows:

Keitaro apologizes for nothing.

Naru nags him about chores.

Keitaro apologizes again.

Kitsune teases him with her body. He is visibly aroused but tries unsuccessfully to hide it.

Naru or Motoko hits him.

He walks back to the table and apologizes, flashing a warm smile that makes them all love him a little more.

Everyone leaves. Shinobu watches him go.

This change was enough to throw off their whole day. Their manager's... no, their _friend's _behavior was strange, and no one knew why. Though Keitaro had forgotten it, all the girls - even Naru - cared about him deeply, even if they had strange ways of showing it. There was no formal meeting or agreement, but all the girls felt a pressing need to restore the old Keitaro with haste. He was the heart of Hinata Inn, and they couldn't let him be troubled, or it would hurt everyone. First, however, they had to get to the bottom of his problem. He seemed to be avoiding them all day, until he finally appeared at the dinner table wearing his jacket.

"Sit down," Motoko said to him. "You're holding things up."

"Uh, sorry. Eat without me. I'm going out." Keitaro said in response. The girls paused and looked at him for a long time.

"I told Haitani and Shirai I'd hang out with them tonight." he explained lamely.

"We're supposed to study tonight, you idiot!"

"I need some money!"

"I need you to be the test subject for my machine!"

"You are to help me clean the samurai armor in my room!"

"Sempai, I thought you were going to help me with the dishes!"

"See," Naru said, "we all want...er, need you here. You can't go out tonight."

"I understand," said Keitaro. "I'll go wash for dinner." With that, he left for the washroom.

"He's shirking his responsibilities," Motoko said. "I _hate _that."

"Did I tell you how he promised to study with me, and stood me up?" said Naru.

"What!? He will pay!" Motoko jumped from her seat and ran for the washroom, seeking vengeance. She approached the washroom drawing her _bokken_, the wooden sword substitute she trained with. Kicking the door open, she dove forward...into an empty room. The light was on and the water was running, but Keitaro was not there.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since its grand opening, the dance club "Hangar 04" had earned a reputation for being the loud, dark home of Hinata's seediest elements. There had been four gang-related shootings here, one of them requiring intervention by a SWAT team. There were regular petitions and calls for its removal. However, like a fungus, it had tenaciously attached itself to existence and seemed to survive its many detractors. Its halls, dimly lit by neon and obscured by noxious smoke, concealed Hinata's wealthy and poor alike as they sated needs that could not be taken care of legally. The societal diseases of drugs and prostitution had found an injury from which they could infect all of the town.

It seemed as though the more vigorously the club was attacked, the more defense it received from wealthy misers with political connections. It was one such tycoon, Kentaro Sakata, who Urashima met upon entering the club's main dance floor. The boy was known for his penchant for fast cars and loose women, but Keitaro had not been aware of the depth of his depravity until he had entered the building that night. He encountered Sakata lounging upon a large white couch, behind a low glass table laden with various items known for their dubious uses, such as needles and razors. Sakata seemed pleasantly dazed by the loud, repetitive music and the glaring strobe lights.

"Keitaro," Sakata called pleasantly, "heard you got yourself in a little fight last night."

"I-I don't know what you're t-talking about," stammered Urashima, having correctly inferred that the fight Sakata spoke of involved the bloody knife he had found in his pocket.

"Did that guy make it?" Sakata asked lightly. "Heard he was critical when the medics got to him."

"I don't remember what happened last night, man," Keitaro returned, now visibly upset.

"Maybe that first hit of Gasoline was too much, huh?" Sakata said, almost concerned.

"Look, I need to go." With that, Keitaro spun on his heel and abandoned Sakata, trying to supress his shuddering.

"Not so heavy tonight, my newbie friend..." the drug veteran called after him in a half-solicitous, half-mocking manner. All the while, he bobbed his head gently to music only he could hear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What truly troubled Urashima was that Kentaro Sakata already knew why he was in the club tonight. As much horror as he felt from the thought of doing something so wrong, he had done exactly what appalled him so. He was back for more. Even as he walked through the club, noticing the stares he was receiving, and the murmurs of guests remembering the antics he could not, his feet still inexorably dragged him toward the table where he knew Haitani, the good kid gone bad, would be.

Haitani had changed since high school. He was once a polite, if amorous, youth with decent grades. He was involved with community service. He had been able to make friends in whatever situation he found himself in.

All that stopped when he went to community college. His father, who had struggled valiantly with alcoholism, had succumbed and had become unstable and aggressive. When his father lost his job because of the alcohol, the flow of money keeping Haitani in college stopped like a faucet. Haitani, deperate to continue learning, had juggled jobs, causing his grades to fall. He had to find money somehow, and one of his more dubious "pals" had suggested basic drug trafficking, starting with the job of errand boy.

It helped that he was a natural salesman, charismatic and charming. In just over two years he had become an important agent in the trade of marijuana, heroin, and just recently the so-called Gasoline. An important fact about Haitani is that he never used any of the drugs he sold. He was appropriately mistrusting of the drugs, especially of Gasoline. No one he talked to seemed to know what its ingredients were.

The boy knew that to have any chance of making it, he needed to get his college education. To accomplish that, he needed money. To balance work and study, he had to take up a high-risk occupation. He had hardened himself against pity for those whose lives were destroyed by his terrible wares. In short, he was so focused on passing college that he never thought twice about selling his best friend a drug which he knew was bound to shatter his life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keitaro ambled toward the table, staring intently at his feet. Haitani saw his approach. His stooped posture, his sluggish pace, and his occasional glances at Haitani's black suitcase gave Haitani all the information he needed. Here was a man who needed more. The poor boy was already addicted.

"Hey, Keitaro," Haitani called to his friend. "Good to see you tonight. You seem a little down."

"A little down? Haitani, what happened last night?" Keitaro asked directly, sitting across from him at the same type of low glass table that Sakata had been sitting at, on the same kind of white couch. The horrible purple lights conflicted nastily with the white of the couch.

"What do you mean? Oh, you mean your little tussle with that guy from the east side. Nah, he's fine, if that's what you're worried about."

_"Haitani," _Keitaro barked in a commanding tone, "what happened last night?"

"Aw, chill. You had your first dance with the green lady, tripped into some guy, and he got a little mad. So he told you to meet him outside so he could beat your ass. I slipped you my knife to give you a little edge. So you met him outside, and kinda got carried away," Haitani said, as if recounting the events of a football game. "You don't remember any of that?"

Keitaro shook his head. So the man was alive, but Keitaro had injured him, using Haitani's knife. He had commited two crimes in one night. If he was caught, he would certainly be imprisoned. Naru would be taken away from him. He would lose Tokyo University. He would lose the inn. He would lose everything he loved.

Even as these thoughts raced through his head, he was trading his money for Haitani's syringe.

"Can you do it for me? I hate needles." Keitaro plead.

"Yeah, stop shaking and I'll get you a bit."

"Just half of it for now, okay?"

"Of course." _Of course._ Haitani had no intention of administering any less than the entire contents of the syringe. By keeping doses high, Haitani was ensured future business.

"Here goes."

The effects were immediate. The feelings went much faster this time. He felt the music, the lights, the taste of the club. He was then dimly aware of being outside, and shortly thereafter he felt the Hinata Inn's presence. He noticed he had somehow made it through the front door, then he was confronted by an attractive combination of sapphire blue and creamy white, and finally he faded into the familiar black.

**Greetings, dear readers.**

**I was moving through some old documents and found this, waiting to be finished. I like the idea too much to let it die like so many other stillborn stories I've seen around. However, I reiterate that this story will not last very long. Two or three more chapters are in order. I've started on the next one already, and it should be arriving very soon. Like in so many good anime series, fanfictions are often ruined by either being massively truncated (Love Hina and Evangelion needed another season) or drawn out to impossible lengths (Sailor Moon and Dragonball Z should have been done by the 26th episode). I almost know how this is going to end, but I haven't decided yet because of all the possibilities that this storyline presents to me.**

**I'm taking a major turn with the plot, beginning now. Suffice it to say that I think you'll enjoy finding out what the "attractive combination of sapphire blue and creamy white" was. **

**Again, please review. Flames are fine - they tell me that someone read the story.**


	3. Three Little Words

**Same spiel as usual. I am but a humble writer with an inability to make and describe chraracters of my own. ****I've been trying to upload this chapter for a few days, but the site has been failing me.**

_**Benzin, third verse, by Rammstein**_

Gib mir Benzin  
Es fließt durch meine Venen  
Es schläft in meinen Tränen  
Es läuft mir aus den Ohren  
Herz und Nieren sind Motoren

_**Translated from German by Jeremy Williams:**_

Give me gasoline  
It flows through my veins  
It sleeps in my tears  
It leaks from my ears  
Heart and kidneys are motors! _(maniacal laughter)_

**Gasoline**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"No...stop!"

"What? Who are you? Why are you in my dormitory? _I'm the manager here."_

"Please, don't you know who I am? _Wait!"_

There was a knock and a thump. The girl knelt on the floor, cradling her eye.

"This is my dorm! Why...why are you...?" Keitaro didn't finish, but instead passed out on the floor.

The girl sobbed softly, for a long time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, with the damned sun! Why did it have to be so...bright?

Keitaro moaned, and slid his eyes open slowly. He was face to face with an angel. The morning sun was captured by her silky azure hair, making a golden halo around her lovely face. Her large, sapphire blue eyes gazed at his own as she knelt over him. As she came into greater focus, he noticed they way her hair clung to her flawless, snowy skin. He looked at her distraught yet gradually brightening face and realized she had been crying. Ever since he opened his eyes her caring smile had been growing, and he had to look away for a moment to keep from being overwhelmed by her beauty.

It was Shinobu! A new bruise had recently blossomed across her left eye. She had clearly been crying. She was hurt.

He leapt onto his feet, and promptly fell down and threw up.

"Careful, Sempai! Don't hurt yourself!" Shinobu returned herself to his side, ready with a washcloth she had made ready some time ago. She carefully cleaned his face of sweat and vomit.

"Shinobu" Keitaro choked through the burning stomach acid which had recently filled his mouth, "what happened to you?"

"Lay back, Sempai. You're tired and sick." Obeying her, he drank the water she offered him and allowed her to clean various light injuries on his body. From his appearance, it looked as though he had been dragged through a rose bush. He sported an array of light cuts and scrapes. His palms were covered with moderate abrasions, indicating he had tried to catch himself from falling several times.

"Shinobu! You have to tell me. It's my job to keep you safe. I promised your parents I would. Now tell me what happened."

"You - you don't remember?" she stammered. Thinking for a moment, she added, "I fell." Gold sunlight from the window caressed her face, and Keitaro noticed a subtle quivering of her jaw. Keitaro tried to remember what had gone on the night before. At that moment, Shinobu moved to his side so that she could sit on her futon. It only occurred at that moment to Keitaro that they were in her room. In the different light of Shinobu's new position, he could more clearly make out the bruise over her eye. Something about its shape disturbed him.

He had skipped dinner to go to the club...

He had met with Sakata, but then moved on...

He met with...

_Haitani._

He had done it again. Keitaro became suddenly dizzy. He had done it _again_. How many times had he admonished himself for going in the first place? How many times had he wondered why a bloodied knife was in his possession? Yet he had gone right back to the Green Lady's side. He had shot up again.

Hating his weakness, Keitaro decided to attend to Shinobu as she had done for him. He moved closer and reached for her face to inspect the injury, but she flinched away from his touch.

"Shinobu, what's wrong?"

"Ah...nothing. I just got nervous..." She moved again, looking up at him, and her hair fell away from the bruise area. Keitaro was for the first time able to see the bruise in its entirety. He quickly became sick again, for he realized what was so troublesome about the wound. It spanned across the outside edge of her eye orbit, formed by four heavy marks which radiated damage outward. He gazed at the four marks and could only think of one thing.

Knuckles.

Each point was where a knuckle had hit. Shinobu had not fallen. She had been punched in the face by a hand too large to belong to a school bully. The fist size was perfect for a twenty-year old Japanese male. Keitaro had hit her.

"God, Shinobu. I'm so sorry," Keitaro sobbed, losing control and pulling the girl into a comforting embrace. "I didn't mean to. I would never..."

"I love you." It was unclear which of the two said it, but both of them certainly heard it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shinobu's simple story was that she had been trying to remove a bottle of oil from a high shelf, and that the bottle had struck her in the eye on the way down. This story, combined with a carefully forged oil slick in the kitchen, provided an acceptable reason for her blackened eye, and the case was not pursued. Keitaro still caught hell that morning for skipping Shinobu's delicious dinner, and surely insulting her, so alleged the other four girls. It didn't help that his dereliction of duty was fairly grand, and the thrashing Motoko had tried to administer the night before was paid for threefold.

That said, with Shinobu's cooperation, Keitaro escaped the incident with little damage. His only injuries seemed to be a couple splinters he acquired repairing the damage Motoko's poorly aimed attacks had made on the inn itself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was eleven at night, and Keitaro was headed for the door.

All the pain he had gone through was forgotten. All the pain he had caused, disregarded.

Nothing could stop him. There was no force in the world great enough to stop him from getting more. All day he had craved it. He could feel the pleasure of green tendrils wrapping around his veins. He had to get more Gasoline. He wanted another dance with the Green Lady. The power had faded away, and he wanted it back.

No force known to man could keep him from holding that level of power again.

Except one.

"Sempai!" Shinobu appeared from the darkness and blocked his path.

"Shinobu, I was...going...to walk..." Keitaro started off strong, carried by the greed for more of the drug. As he spoke, however, he was anchored by the dead weight of lying to her.

"Sempai, please stay home tonight. I don't want you to go back to the place that changes you." She looked at her feet throughout her proclaimation. "Let's go back to your room. I need to talk to you."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keitaro's room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, and rather cold. He had neglected to fix the furnace vent leading to his room, prioritizing the warmth of the tenants, and the chill rain that had begun to fall outside dropped the room's temperature to uncomfortable depths. Shinobu and Keitaro, wrapped in layers of bedclothes, did their best to ignore the discomfort. They sat on his futon, staring at each other for a few minutes, trying to read each other's mind.

"Sempai," began Shinobu quietly, "is it drugs? We learned the warning signs in health class."

Slowly, Keitaro nodded, and hung his head in shame. "I didn't want you to know. I don't want you to think it's alright."

"I don't."

Keitaro was stung. He knew Shinobu looked up to him, but to hear her disapproval of his actions was very painful.

"You were going to get more."

Keitaro now stared at his knees.

"You would have come home some time later, and maybe hit me again."

His eyes began to water. Yes, those had been his intentions.

"The worst part would have been the danger you put yourself into."

Keitaro looked up, and saw that Shinobu was crying.

"I don't care what you do to me. But I can't let you go out there and do it again, because you'd be risking your life. You risk your life every time you take those horrible drugs. And I can't stand the thought of something happening to you." Unbidden, Shinobu threw herself into Keitaro's arms. He held her as though she might escape from him.

"Shinobu, I'll never hurt you again. I'll never do the drugs again. _I promise_."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Don't you love a man of his word? I've got two more chapters outlined, with #4 in progress. As we know, Keitaro always keeps his promises, but that doesn't mean we've seen the last of Gasoline. I've placed some real trouble on Keitaro's horizon. **

**The date in the story is roughly two weeks before Christmas, and students and colleges all over the world are registering for spring classes. **

**Suffice it to say that Haitani really can't afford to lose customers right now.**


End file.
